Chapter Twenty Nine.Jack Brace stirs up the War Spirit of Adams.“You must know, John Adams,” said Jack Brace, with a look and a clearing of the throat that raised great expectations in the breasts of the listeners, “you must know that for a long while before the battle Lord Nelson had bin scourin’ the seas, far and near, in search o’ the French and Spanish fleets, but do what he would, he could never fall in with ’em. At last he got wind of ’em in Cadiz Harbour, and made all sail to catch ’em. It was on the 19th of October 1805 that Villeneuve, that was the French admiral, put to sea with the combined fleets o’ France and Spain. It wasn’t till daybreak of the 21st that we got sight of ’em, right ahead, formed in close line, about twelve miles to lee’ard, standin’ to the s’uth’ard, off Cape Trafalgar.“Ha, John Adams, an’ boys an’ girls all, you should have seen that sight; it would have done you good. An’ you should have felt our buzzums; they was fit to bust,Itell you! You see, we’d bin chasin’ of ’em so long, that we could scarce believe our eyes when we saw ’em at long last. They wor bigger ships and more of ’em than ours; but what cared Nelson for that? not the shank of a brass button! he rather liked that sort o’ thing; for, you know, one Englishman is equal to three Frenchmen any day.”“No, no, Jack Brace,” said John Adams, with a quiet smile and shake of the head; “’snot quite so many as that.”“Notquite!” repeated Brace, vehemently; “why, it’s my opinion that I could lick any six o’ the Mounseers myself. Thursday November Christian there—”“He ain’t November yet,” interrupted Adams, quietly, “he’s only October.”“No matter, it’s all the same. I tell ’ee, John, that he could wallop twenty of ’em, easy. There ain’t no go in ’em at all.”“Didn’t you tell me, Jack Brace, that Trafalgar was a glorious battle?”“In coorse I did, for so it was.”“Didn’t the Frenchmen stick to their guns like men?”“No doubt of it.”“An’ they didn’t haul down their colours, I suppose, till they was about blown to shivers?”“You’re about right there, John Adams.”“Well, then, you can’t say they’ve got no go in ’em. Don’t underrate your enemy, whatever you do, for it’s not fair; besides, in so doin’ you underrate your own deeds. Moreover, we don’t allow boastin’ aboard of this island; so go ahead, Jack Brace, and tell us what you did do, without referrin’ to what you think you could do. Mind, I’m king here, and I’ll have to clap you in irons if you let your tongue wag too freely.”“All right, your majesty,” replied Brace, with a bow of graceful humility, which deeply impressed his juvenile audience; “I’ll behave better in futur’ if you’ll forgive me this time. Well, as I was about to say, when you sent that round shot across my bows and brought me up, Nelson he would have fought ’em if they’d had ten times the number o’ ships that we had. As it was, the enemy had thirty-three sail of the line and seven frigates. We had only twenty-seven sail of the line and four frigates, so we was outnumbered by nine vessels. Moreover the enemy had 4000 lobsters on board—”“Lobsters bein’ land sodgers, my dears,” remarked Adams, in explanation, “so-called ’cause of their bein’ all red-coated; but the French sodgers are only red-trousered, coats bein’ blue. Axin’ your pardon, Brace, go on.”The seaman, who had availed himself of the interruption to stir up and stuff down his pipe, resumed.“Likewise one of their line-o’-battle ships was a huge four-decker, called theSantissima Trinidad, and they had some of the best Tyrolese riflemen that could be got scattered throughout the fleet, as we afterwards came to find out to our cost.“Soon after daylight Nelson came on deck. I see him as plain as if he was before me at this moment, for, bein’ stationed in the mizzen-top o’ theVictory—that was Nelson’s ship, you know—I could see everything quite plain. He stood there for a minute or so, with his admiral’s frock-coat covered with orders on the left breast, and his empty right sleeve fastened up to it; for you must know he had lost his right arm in action before that, and also his right eye, but the arm and eye that were left were quite enough for him to work with. After a word or two with the officers, he signalled to bear down on the enemy in two lines.“Then it seemed to have occurred to him that the smoke of battle might render the signals difficult or impossible to make out, for he immediately made one that would serve for everything. It was this: ‘if signals can’t be seen, no captain can do wrong if he places his ship alongside an enemy.’ Of coorse we all knew that he meant to win that battle; but, for the matter of that, every soul in the fleet, from the admiral to the smallest powder-monkey, meant—”“Boasting not allowed,” said Dan McCoy, displaying his fine teeth from ear to ear.The seaman looked at him with a heavy frown.“You young slip of a pump-handle, what d’ye mean?”“The king’s orders,” said Dan, pointing to Adams, while the rest of the Pitcairners seemed awestruck by his presumption.The frown slowly left the visage of Jack Brace. He shut his eyes, smiled benignly, and delivered a series of heavy puffs from the starboard side of his mouth.Then a little squeak that had been bottled up in the nose of Otaheitan Sally forced a vent, and the whole party burst into hilarious laughter.“Just so,” resumed Brace, when they had recovered, “that is exactly what we did in the mizzen-top o’ theVictorywhen we made out the signal, only we stuck a cheer on to the end o’ the laugh. After that came another signal, just as we were about to go into action, ‘England expects that every man will this day do his duty.’ The effect of that signal was just treemendious,Itell you.“I noticed at this time that some of Nelson’s officers were botherin’ him,—tryin’ to persuade him, so to speak, to do somethin’ he didn’t want to. I afterwards found out that they were tryin’ to persuade him not to wear his orders, but he wouldn’t listen to ’em. Then they tried to convince him it would be wise for him to keep out of action as long as possible. He seemed to give in to this, for he immediately signalled theTemeraireandLeviathan, which were abreast of us, to pass ahead; but inmyopinion this was nothin’ more than a sly joke of the Admiral, for he kept carrying on all sail on theVictory, so that it wasn’t possible for these ships to obey the order.“We made the attack in two lines. TheVictoryled the weather-line of fourteen ships, and Collingwood, in theRoyal Sovereign, led the lee-line of thirteen ships.“As we bore down, the enemy opened the ball. We held our breath, for, as no doubt you know, messmate, just before the beginnin’ of a fight, when a man is standin’ still an’ doin’ nothin’, he’s got time to think; an’ hedoesthink, too, in a way, mayhap, that he’s not much used to think.”“That’s true, Jack Brace,” responded Adams, with a grave nod; “an’, d’ye know, it strikes me that it would be better for all of us if we’d think oftener in that fashion when we’ve got time to do it.”“You’re right, John Adams; you’re right. Hows’ever, we hadn’t much time to think that morning, for the shot soon began to tell. One round shot came, as it seemed, straight for my head, but it missed me by a shave, an’ only took off the hat of a man beside me that was about a fut shorter than myself.“‘You see the advantage,’ says he, ‘o’ bein’ a little feller.’ ‘That’s so,’ says I, but I didn’t say or think no more that I knows on after that, for we had got within musket range, and the small bullets went whistling about our heads, pickin’ off or woundin’ a man here an’ there.“It was just then that I thought it time to put my pipe in my pocket, for, you see, I had been havin’ a puff on the sly as we was bearin’ down; an’ I put up my fore-finger to shove the baccy down, when one o’ them stingin’ little things comes along, whips my best cutty out o’ my mouth, an’ carries the finger along with it. Of coorse I warn’t goin’ below for such a small matter, so I pulls out my hankerchief, an’ says I to the little man that lost his hat, ‘Just take a round turn here, Jim,’ says I, ‘an’ I’ll be ready for action again in two minutes.’ Jim, he tied it up, but before he quite done it, the round shot was pitchin’ into us like hail, cuttin’ up the sails and riggin’ most awful.“They told me afterwards that Nelson gave orders to steer straight for the bow of the greatSantissima Trinidad, and remarked, ‘It’s too warm work to last long,’ but he did not return a single shot, though about fifty of our men had been killed and wounded. You see, he never was fond of wastin’ powder an’ shot. He generally reserved his fire till it could be delivered with stunnin’ effect.“Just then a round shot carried away our main-topmast with all her stun-s’ls an’ booms. By good luck, however, we were close alongside o’ the enemy’s shipRedoubtableby that time. Our tiller ropes were shot away too, but it didn’t matter much now. The word was given, and we opened with both broadsides at once. You should have felt theVictorytremble, John Adams. We tackled theRedoubtablewith the starboard guns, and theBucentaurandSantissima Trinidadwith the port guns. Of course they gave it us hot and strong in reply. At the same time Captain Hardy, in theTemeraire, fell on board theRedoubtableon her other side, and theFougueux, another o’ the enemy, fell on board theTemeraire; so there we were four ships abreast—a compact tier—blazin’ into each other like mad, with the muzzles of the guns touchin’ the sides when they were run out, an’ men stationed with buckets at the ports, to throw water into the shot-holes to prevent their takin’ fire.“It was awful work, I tell you, with the never-stopping roar of great guns and rattle of small arms, an’ the smoke, an’ the decks slippery with blood. The order was given to depress our guns and load with light charges of powder, to prevent the shot going right through the enemy into our own ship on the other side.“TheRedoubtableflew no colours, so we couldn’t tell when she struck, and twice the Admiral, wishing to spare life, gave orders to cease firing, thinking she had given in. But she had not done so, and soon after a ball from her mizzen-top struck Nelson on the left shoulder, and he fell. They took him below at once.“Of course we in the mizzen-top knew nothing of this, for we couldn’t see almost anything for the smoke, only here and there a bit of a mast, or a yard-arm, or a bowsprit, while the very air trembled with the tremendous and continuous roar.“We were most of us wounded by that time, more or less, but kept blazing away as long as we could stand. Then there came cheers of triumph mingling with the shouts and cries of battle. The ships of the enemy were beginning to strike. One after another the flags went down. Before long the cry was, ‘Five have struck!’ then ‘Ten, hurrah!’ then fifteen, then twenty, hurrah!”“Hurrah! Old England for ever!” cried Adams, starting to his feet and waving his hat in a burst of irrepressible excitement, which roused the spirits of the youths around, who, leaping up with flushed faces and glittering eyes, sent up from the groves of Pitcairn a vigorous British cheer in honour of the great victory of Trafalgar.“But,” continued Jack Brace, when the excitement had abated, “there was great sorrow mingled with our triumph that day, for Nelson, the hero of a hundred fights, was dead. The ball had entered his spine. He lived just long enough to know that our victory was complete, and died thanking God that he had done his duty.”“That was truly a great battle,” said Adams, while Brace, having concluded, was refilling his pipe.“Right you are, John,” said the other; “about the greatest victory we ever gained. It has settled the fleets of France and Spain, I guess, for the next fifty years.”“But what was it all for?” asked Bessy Mills, looking up in the sailor’s face with much simplicity.“What was it for?” repeated Brace, with a perplexed look. “Why, my dear, it was—it was for the honour and glory of Old England, to be sure.”“No, no, Jack, not quite that,” interposed Adams, with a laugh, “it was to clap a stopper on the ambition of the French, as far as I can make out; or rather to snub that rascal Napoleon Bonnypart, an’ keep him within bounds.”“But he ain’t easy to keep within bounds,” said Brace, putting his pipe in his pocket and rising; “for he’s been knockin’ the lobsters of Europe over like ninepins of late years. Hows’ever, we’ll lick him yet on land, as we’ve licked him already on the sea, or my name’s not—”He stopped abruptly, having caught sight of Dan McCoy’s twinkling eye.“Now, John Adams, I must go, else the Cap’n’ll think I’ve deserted altogether.”“Oh,don’tgo yet; please don’t!” pleaded Dolly Young, as she grasped and fondled the seaman’s huge hand.Dolly was at that time about nine years of age, and full of enthusiasm. She was seconded in her entreaties by Dinah Adams, who seized the other hand, while several of the older girls sought to influence him by words and smiles; but Jack Brace was not to be overcome.“I’ll be ashore again to-morrow, p’r’aps, with the Captain, if he lands,” said Brace, “and spin you some more yarns about the wars.”With this promise they were obliged to rest content. In a few minutes the visitor was carried over the surf by Toc and Charlie in their canoe, and soon put on board theTopaz, which stood inshore to receive him.
“You must know, John Adams,” said Jack Brace, with a look and a clearing of the throat that raised great expectations in the breasts of the listeners, “you must know that for a long while before the battle Lord Nelson had bin scourin’ the seas, far and near, in search o’ the French and Spanish fleets, but do what he would, he could never fall in with ’em. At last he got wind of ’em in Cadiz Harbour, and made all sail to catch ’em. It was on the 19th of October 1805 that Villeneuve, that was the French admiral, put to sea with the combined fleets o’ France and Spain. It wasn’t till daybreak of the 21st that we got sight of ’em, right ahead, formed in close line, about twelve miles to lee’ard, standin’ to the s’uth’ard, off Cape Trafalgar.
“Ha, John Adams, an’ boys an’ girls all, you should have seen that sight; it would have done you good. An’ you should have felt our buzzums; they was fit to bust,Itell you! You see, we’d bin chasin’ of ’em so long, that we could scarce believe our eyes when we saw ’em at long last. They wor bigger ships and more of ’em than ours; but what cared Nelson for that? not the shank of a brass button! he rather liked that sort o’ thing; for, you know, one Englishman is equal to three Frenchmen any day.”
“No, no, Jack Brace,” said John Adams, with a quiet smile and shake of the head; “’snot quite so many as that.”
“Notquite!” repeated Brace, vehemently; “why, it’s my opinion that I could lick any six o’ the Mounseers myself. Thursday November Christian there—”
“He ain’t November yet,” interrupted Adams, quietly, “he’s only October.”
“No matter, it’s all the same. I tell ’ee, John, that he could wallop twenty of ’em, easy. There ain’t no go in ’em at all.”
“Didn’t you tell me, Jack Brace, that Trafalgar was a glorious battle?”
“In coorse I did, for so it was.”
“Didn’t the Frenchmen stick to their guns like men?”
“No doubt of it.”
“An’ they didn’t haul down their colours, I suppose, till they was about blown to shivers?”
“You’re about right there, John Adams.”
“Well, then, you can’t say they’ve got no go in ’em. Don’t underrate your enemy, whatever you do, for it’s not fair; besides, in so doin’ you underrate your own deeds. Moreover, we don’t allow boastin’ aboard of this island; so go ahead, Jack Brace, and tell us what you did do, without referrin’ to what you think you could do. Mind, I’m king here, and I’ll have to clap you in irons if you let your tongue wag too freely.”
“All right, your majesty,” replied Brace, with a bow of graceful humility, which deeply impressed his juvenile audience; “I’ll behave better in futur’ if you’ll forgive me this time. Well, as I was about to say, when you sent that round shot across my bows and brought me up, Nelson he would have fought ’em if they’d had ten times the number o’ ships that we had. As it was, the enemy had thirty-three sail of the line and seven frigates. We had only twenty-seven sail of the line and four frigates, so we was outnumbered by nine vessels. Moreover the enemy had 4000 lobsters on board—”
“Lobsters bein’ land sodgers, my dears,” remarked Adams, in explanation, “so-called ’cause of their bein’ all red-coated; but the French sodgers are only red-trousered, coats bein’ blue. Axin’ your pardon, Brace, go on.”
The seaman, who had availed himself of the interruption to stir up and stuff down his pipe, resumed.
“Likewise one of their line-o’-battle ships was a huge four-decker, called theSantissima Trinidad, and they had some of the best Tyrolese riflemen that could be got scattered throughout the fleet, as we afterwards came to find out to our cost.
“Soon after daylight Nelson came on deck. I see him as plain as if he was before me at this moment, for, bein’ stationed in the mizzen-top o’ theVictory—that was Nelson’s ship, you know—I could see everything quite plain. He stood there for a minute or so, with his admiral’s frock-coat covered with orders on the left breast, and his empty right sleeve fastened up to it; for you must know he had lost his right arm in action before that, and also his right eye, but the arm and eye that were left were quite enough for him to work with. After a word or two with the officers, he signalled to bear down on the enemy in two lines.
“Then it seemed to have occurred to him that the smoke of battle might render the signals difficult or impossible to make out, for he immediately made one that would serve for everything. It was this: ‘if signals can’t be seen, no captain can do wrong if he places his ship alongside an enemy.’ Of coorse we all knew that he meant to win that battle; but, for the matter of that, every soul in the fleet, from the admiral to the smallest powder-monkey, meant—”
“Boasting not allowed,” said Dan McCoy, displaying his fine teeth from ear to ear.
The seaman looked at him with a heavy frown.
“You young slip of a pump-handle, what d’ye mean?”
“The king’s orders,” said Dan, pointing to Adams, while the rest of the Pitcairners seemed awestruck by his presumption.
The frown slowly left the visage of Jack Brace. He shut his eyes, smiled benignly, and delivered a series of heavy puffs from the starboard side of his mouth.
Then a little squeak that had been bottled up in the nose of Otaheitan Sally forced a vent, and the whole party burst into hilarious laughter.
“Just so,” resumed Brace, when they had recovered, “that is exactly what we did in the mizzen-top o’ theVictorywhen we made out the signal, only we stuck a cheer on to the end o’ the laugh. After that came another signal, just as we were about to go into action, ‘England expects that every man will this day do his duty.’ The effect of that signal was just treemendious,Itell you.
“I noticed at this time that some of Nelson’s officers were botherin’ him,—tryin’ to persuade him, so to speak, to do somethin’ he didn’t want to. I afterwards found out that they were tryin’ to persuade him not to wear his orders, but he wouldn’t listen to ’em. Then they tried to convince him it would be wise for him to keep out of action as long as possible. He seemed to give in to this, for he immediately signalled theTemeraireandLeviathan, which were abreast of us, to pass ahead; but inmyopinion this was nothin’ more than a sly joke of the Admiral, for he kept carrying on all sail on theVictory, so that it wasn’t possible for these ships to obey the order.
“We made the attack in two lines. TheVictoryled the weather-line of fourteen ships, and Collingwood, in theRoyal Sovereign, led the lee-line of thirteen ships.
“As we bore down, the enemy opened the ball. We held our breath, for, as no doubt you know, messmate, just before the beginnin’ of a fight, when a man is standin’ still an’ doin’ nothin’, he’s got time to think; an’ hedoesthink, too, in a way, mayhap, that he’s not much used to think.”
“That’s true, Jack Brace,” responded Adams, with a grave nod; “an’, d’ye know, it strikes me that it would be better for all of us if we’d think oftener in that fashion when we’ve got time to do it.”
“You’re right, John Adams; you’re right. Hows’ever, we hadn’t much time to think that morning, for the shot soon began to tell. One round shot came, as it seemed, straight for my head, but it missed me by a shave, an’ only took off the hat of a man beside me that was about a fut shorter than myself.
“‘You see the advantage,’ says he, ‘o’ bein’ a little feller.’ ‘That’s so,’ says I, but I didn’t say or think no more that I knows on after that, for we had got within musket range, and the small bullets went whistling about our heads, pickin’ off or woundin’ a man here an’ there.
“It was just then that I thought it time to put my pipe in my pocket, for, you see, I had been havin’ a puff on the sly as we was bearin’ down; an’ I put up my fore-finger to shove the baccy down, when one o’ them stingin’ little things comes along, whips my best cutty out o’ my mouth, an’ carries the finger along with it. Of coorse I warn’t goin’ below for such a small matter, so I pulls out my hankerchief, an’ says I to the little man that lost his hat, ‘Just take a round turn here, Jim,’ says I, ‘an’ I’ll be ready for action again in two minutes.’ Jim, he tied it up, but before he quite done it, the round shot was pitchin’ into us like hail, cuttin’ up the sails and riggin’ most awful.
“They told me afterwards that Nelson gave orders to steer straight for the bow of the greatSantissima Trinidad, and remarked, ‘It’s too warm work to last long,’ but he did not return a single shot, though about fifty of our men had been killed and wounded. You see, he never was fond of wastin’ powder an’ shot. He generally reserved his fire till it could be delivered with stunnin’ effect.
“Just then a round shot carried away our main-topmast with all her stun-s’ls an’ booms. By good luck, however, we were close alongside o’ the enemy’s shipRedoubtableby that time. Our tiller ropes were shot away too, but it didn’t matter much now. The word was given, and we opened with both broadsides at once. You should have felt theVictorytremble, John Adams. We tackled theRedoubtablewith the starboard guns, and theBucentaurandSantissima Trinidadwith the port guns. Of course they gave it us hot and strong in reply. At the same time Captain Hardy, in theTemeraire, fell on board theRedoubtableon her other side, and theFougueux, another o’ the enemy, fell on board theTemeraire; so there we were four ships abreast—a compact tier—blazin’ into each other like mad, with the muzzles of the guns touchin’ the sides when they were run out, an’ men stationed with buckets at the ports, to throw water into the shot-holes to prevent their takin’ fire.
“It was awful work, I tell you, with the never-stopping roar of great guns and rattle of small arms, an’ the smoke, an’ the decks slippery with blood. The order was given to depress our guns and load with light charges of powder, to prevent the shot going right through the enemy into our own ship on the other side.
“TheRedoubtableflew no colours, so we couldn’t tell when she struck, and twice the Admiral, wishing to spare life, gave orders to cease firing, thinking she had given in. But she had not done so, and soon after a ball from her mizzen-top struck Nelson on the left shoulder, and he fell. They took him below at once.
“Of course we in the mizzen-top knew nothing of this, for we couldn’t see almost anything for the smoke, only here and there a bit of a mast, or a yard-arm, or a bowsprit, while the very air trembled with the tremendous and continuous roar.
“We were most of us wounded by that time, more or less, but kept blazing away as long as we could stand. Then there came cheers of triumph mingling with the shouts and cries of battle. The ships of the enemy were beginning to strike. One after another the flags went down. Before long the cry was, ‘Five have struck!’ then ‘Ten, hurrah!’ then fifteen, then twenty, hurrah!”
“Hurrah! Old England for ever!” cried Adams, starting to his feet and waving his hat in a burst of irrepressible excitement, which roused the spirits of the youths around, who, leaping up with flushed faces and glittering eyes, sent up from the groves of Pitcairn a vigorous British cheer in honour of the great victory of Trafalgar.
“But,” continued Jack Brace, when the excitement had abated, “there was great sorrow mingled with our triumph that day, for Nelson, the hero of a hundred fights, was dead. The ball had entered his spine. He lived just long enough to know that our victory was complete, and died thanking God that he had done his duty.”
“That was truly a great battle,” said Adams, while Brace, having concluded, was refilling his pipe.
“Right you are, John,” said the other; “about the greatest victory we ever gained. It has settled the fleets of France and Spain, I guess, for the next fifty years.”
“But what was it all for?” asked Bessy Mills, looking up in the sailor’s face with much simplicity.
“What was it for?” repeated Brace, with a perplexed look. “Why, my dear, it was—it was for the honour and glory of Old England, to be sure.”
“No, no, Jack, not quite that,” interposed Adams, with a laugh, “it was to clap a stopper on the ambition of the French, as far as I can make out; or rather to snub that rascal Napoleon Bonnypart, an’ keep him within bounds.”
“But he ain’t easy to keep within bounds,” said Brace, putting his pipe in his pocket and rising; “for he’s been knockin’ the lobsters of Europe over like ninepins of late years. Hows’ever, we’ll lick him yet on land, as we’ve licked him already on the sea, or my name’s not—”
He stopped abruptly, having caught sight of Dan McCoy’s twinkling eye.
“Now, John Adams, I must go, else the Cap’n’ll think I’ve deserted altogether.”
“Oh,don’tgo yet; please don’t!” pleaded Dolly Young, as she grasped and fondled the seaman’s huge hand.
Dolly was at that time about nine years of age, and full of enthusiasm. She was seconded in her entreaties by Dinah Adams, who seized the other hand, while several of the older girls sought to influence him by words and smiles; but Jack Brace was not to be overcome.
“I’ll be ashore again to-morrow, p’r’aps, with the Captain, if he lands,” said Brace, “and spin you some more yarns about the wars.”
With this promise they were obliged to rest content. In a few minutes the visitor was carried over the surf by Toc and Charlie in their canoe, and soon put on board theTopaz, which stood inshore to receive him.
Chapter Thirty.Adams and the Girls.Great was the interest aroused on board theTopazwhen Jack Brace narrated his experiences among the islanders, and Captain Folger resolved to pay them a visit. He did so next day, accompanied by the Englishman and some of the other men, the sight of whom gladdened the eyes and hearts of Adams and his large family.Besides assuring himself of the truth of Brace’s statements, the Captain obtained additional proof of the truth of Adams’s account of himself and his community in the form of the chronometer and azimuth compass of theBounty.“How many did you say your colony consists of?” asked Folger.“Thirty-five all told, sir,” answered Adams; “but I fear we shall be only thirty-four soon.”“How so?”“One of our lads, a dear boy of about eight years of age, is dying, I fear,” returned Adams, sadly.“I’m sorry to hear it, and still more sorry that I have no doctor in my ship,” said Folger, “but I have a smatterin’ of doctors’ work myself. Let me see him.”Adams led the way to the hut where poor James Young lay, tenderly nursed by Mary Christian. The boy was lying on his bed as they entered, gazing wistfully out at the little window which opened from the side of it like the port-lights or bull’s-eyes of a ship’s berth. His young nurse sat beside him with theBountyBible open on her knees. She shut it and rose as the strangers entered.The poor invalid was too weak to take much interest in them. He was extremely thin, and breathed with great difficulty. Nevertheless his face flushed, and a gleam of surprise shot from his eyes as he turned languidly towards the Captain.“My poor boy,” said Folger, taking his hand and gently feeling his pulse, “do you suffer much?”“Yes,—very much,” said little James, with a sickly smile.“Can you rest at all?” asked the Captain.“I am—always—resting,” he replied, with a pause between each word; “resting—on Jesus.”The Captain was evidently surprised by the answer.“Who told you about Jesus?” he asked.“God’s book—and—the Holy—Spirit.”It was obvious that the exertion of thinking and talking was not good for poor little James. Captain Folger therefore, after smoothing the hair on his forehead once or twice very tenderly, bade him good-bye, and went out.“Doctors could do nothing for the child,” he said, while returning with Adams to his house; “but he is rather to be envied than pitied. I would give much for therestwhich he apparently has found.”“Givemuch!” exclaimed Adams, with an earnest look. “Rest in the Lord is not to be purchased by gifts. Itself is the grand free gift of God to man, to be had for the asking.”“I know it,” was the Captain’s curt reply, as he entered Adams’s house. “Where got you the chronometer and azimuth compass?” he said, on observing these instruments.“They belonged to theBounty. You are heartily welcome to both of them if you choose; they are of no use to me.” (See Note.)Folger accepted the gift, and promised to write to England and acquaint the Government with his discovery of the colony.“You see, sir,” said Adams, with a grave look, while hospitably entertaining his visitor that afternoon, “we are increasing at a great rate, and although they may perhaps take me home and swing me up to the yard-arm, I think it better to run the risk o’ that than to leave all these poor young things here unprotected. Why, just think what might happen if one o’ them traders which are little better than pirates were to come an’ find us here.”He looked at the Captain earnestly.“Now, if we were under the protection o’ the British flag—only just recognised, as it were,—that would go a long way to help us, and prevent mischief.”At this point the importunities of some of the young people to hear about the outside world prevailed, and Folger began, as Jack Brace had done the day before, to tell them some of the most stirring events in the history of his own land.But he soon found out that the mental capacity of the Pitcairners was like a bottomless pit. However much they got, they wanted more. Anecdote after anecdote, story after story, fact after fact, was thrown into the gulf, and still the cry was, “More! more!”At last he tore himself away.“Good-bye, and God bless you all,” he said, while stepping into the canoe which was to carry him off. “I won’t forget my promise.”“And tell ’em to send us story-books,” shouted Daniel McCoy, as the canoe rose on the back of the breakers.The Captain waved his hand. Most of the women and children wiped their eyes, and then they all ran to the heights to watch theTopazas she sailed away. They watched her till she vanished over that mysterious horizon which seemed to the Pitcairners the utmost boundary of the world, and some of them continued to gaze until the stars came out, and the gulls retired to bed, and the soft black mantle of night descended like a blessing of tranquillity on land and sea.Before bidding theTopazfarewell, we may remark that Captain Folger faithfully fulfilled his promise. He wrote a letter to England giving a full account of his discovery of the retreat of the mutineers, which aroused much interest all over the land; but at that time the stirring events of warfare filled the minds of men in Europe so exclusively, that the lonely island and its inhabitants were soon forgotten—at least no action was taken by the Government—and six years elapsed before another vessel sailed out of the great world into the circle of vision around Pitcairn.Meanwhile the Pitcairners, knowing that, even at the shortest, a long, long time must pass before Folger could communicate with the “old country,” continued the even tenor of their innocent lives.The school prospered and became a vigorous institution. The church not less so. More children were born to Thursday October, insomuch that he at last had one for every working-day in the week; more yam-fields were cultivated, and more marriages took place—but hold, this is anticipating.We have said that the school prospered. The entire community went to it, male and female, old and young. John Adams not only taught his pupils all he knew, but set himself laboriously to acquire all the knowledge that was to be obtained by severe study of the Bible, the Prayer-book. Carteret’s Voyages, and by original meditation. From the first mine he gathered and taught the grand, plain, and blessed truths about salvation through Jesus, together with a few tares of error resulting from misconception and imperfect reasoning. From the second he adopted the forms of worship of the Church of England. From the third he gleaned and amplified a modicum of nautical, geographical, and general information; and from the fourth he extracted a flood of miscellaneous, incomplete, and disjointed facts, fancies, and fallacies, which at all events served the good purpose of interesting his pupils and exercising their mental powers.But into the midst of all this life death stepped and claimed a victim. The great destroyer came not, however, as an enemy but as a friend, to raise little James Young to that perfect rest of which he had already had a foretaste on the island.It was the first death among the second generation, and naturally had a deeply solemnising effect on the young people. This occurred soon after the departure of theTopaz. The little grave was made under the shade of a palm-grove, where wild-flowers grew in abundance, and openings in the leafy canopy let in the glance of heaven’s blue eye.One evening, about six months after this event, Adams went up the hill to an eminence to which he was fond of retiring when a knotty problem in arithmetic had to be tackled. Arithmetic was his chief difficulty. The soliloquy which he uttered on reaching his place of meditation will explain his perplexities.“That ’rithmetic do bother me, an’ no mistake,” he said, with a grave shake of the head at a lively lizard which was looking up in his face. “You see, history is easy. What I knows I knows an’ can teach, an’ what I don’t know I let alone, an there’s an end on’t. There’s no makin’ a better o’that. Then, as to writin’, though my hand is crabbed enough, and my pot-hooks are shaky and sprawly, still I know the shapes o’ things, an’ the youngsters are so quick that they can most of ’em write better than myself; but in regard to that ’rithmetic, it’s a heartbreak altogether, for I’ve only just got enough of it to puzzle me. Wi’ the use o’ my fingers I can do simple addition pretty well, an’ I can screw round subtraction, but multiplication’s a terrible business. Unfort’nitely my edication has carried me only the length o’ the fourth line, an’ that ain’t enough.”He paused, and the lively lizard, ready to fly at a moment’s notice, put its head on one side as if interested in the man’s difficulty.“Seven times eight, now,” continued Adams. “I’ve no more notion what that is than the man in the moon. An’ I’ve no table to tell me, an’ no way o’ findin’ it out—eh? Why, yes I have. I’ll mark ’em down one at a time an’ count ’em up.”He gave his thigh a slap, which sent the lively lizard into his hole, horrified.“Poor thing, I didn’t mean that,” he said to the absent animal. “Hows’ever, I’ll try it. Why, I’ll make a multiplication-table for myself. Strange that that way never struck me before.”As he went on muttering he busied himself in rubbing clean a flat surface of rock, on which, with a piece of reddish stone, he made a row of eight marks, one below another. Alongside of that he made another row of eight marks, and so on till he had put down seven rows, when he counted them up, and found the result to be fifty-six. This piece of acquired knowledge he jotted down in a little notebook, which, with a quantity of other stationery, had originally belonged to that great fountain of wealth, theBounty.“Why, I’ll make out the whole table in this way,” he said, quite heartily, as he sat down again on the flat rock and went to work.Of course he found the process laborious, especially when he got among the higher numbers; but Adams was not a man to be turned from his purpose by trifles. He persevered until his efforts were crowned with success.While he was engaged with the multiplication problem on that day, he was interrupted by the sound of merry voices, and soon Otaheitan Sally, Bessy Mills, May Christian, Sarah Quintal, and his own daughter Dinah, came tripping up the hill towards him.These five, ranging from fifteen to nineteen, were fond of rambling through the woods in company, being not only the older members of the young flock, but like-minded in many things. Sally was looked up to by the other four as being the eldest and wisest, as well as the most beautiful; and truly, the fine clear complexion of the pretty brunette contrasted well with their fairer skins and golden or light-brown locks.“We came up to have a chat with you, father,” said Sally, as they drew near. “Are you too busy to be bothered with us?”“Never too busy to chat with such dear girls,” said the gallant seaman, throwing down his piece of red chalk, and taking one of Sally’s hands in his. “Sit down, Sall; sit down, May, on the other side—there. Now, what have you come to chat about?”“About that dearTopaz, of course, and that darling Captain Folger, and Jack Brace, and all the rest of them,” answered Sarah Quintal, with sparkling eyes.“Hallo, Sarah! you’ve sent your heart away with them, I fear,” said Adams.“Not quite, but nearly,” returned Sarah. “I would give anything if the whole crew would only have stayed with us altogether.”“Oh! how charming! delightful!sonice!” exclaimed three of the others. Sally said nothing, but gave a little smile, which sent a sparkle from her pearly teeth that harmonised well with the gleam of her laughter-loving eyes.“No doubt,” said Adams, with a peculiar laugh; “but, I say, girls, you must not go on thinking for ever about that ship. Why, it is six months or more since it left us, and you are all as full of it as if it had sailed but yesterday.”“How can we help it, father?” said Sally. “It is about the most wonderful thing that has happened since we were born, and you can’t expect us to get it out of our heads easily.”“And how can we help thinking, and talking too,” said Bessy Mills, “about all the new and strange things that Jack Brace related to us?”“Besides, father,” said Dinah, “you are quite as bad as we are, for you talk about nothing else now, almost, except Lord Nelson and the battles of the Nile and Trafalgar.”“Come, come, Di; don’t be hard on me. I don’t say much about them battles now.”“Indeed you do,” cried May Christian, “and it is only last night that I heard you muttering something about Trafalgar in your sleep, and you suddenly broke out with a half-muttered shout like this: ‘Englan’ ’specs every man’ll do’s dooty!’”May was not a bad mimic. This was received with a shout of laughter by the other girls.While they were conversing thus two tall and slim but broad-shouldered youths were seen climbing the hill towards them, engaged in very earnest conversation. And this reference to conversation reminds us of the curious fact that the language of the young Pitcairners had greatly improved of late. As they had no other living model to improve upon than John Adams, this must have been entirely the result of reading. Although the books they had were few, they proved to be sufficient not only to fill their minds with higher thoughts, but their mouths with purer English than that nautical type which had been peculiar to the mutineers.The tall striplings who now approached were Daniel McCoy and Charlie Christian. These two were great friends and confidants. We will not reveal the subject of their remarkably earnest conversation, but merely give the concluding sentences.“Well, Charlie,” said Dan, as they came in view of the knoll on which Adams and the girls were seated, “we will pluck up courage and make a dash at it together.”“Ye-es,” said Charlie, with hesitation.“And shall we break the ice by referring to Toc’s condition, eh?” said Dan.“Well, it seems to me the easiest plan; perhaps I should say the least difficult,” returned Charlie, with a faint smile.“Come, don’t lose heart, Charlie,” said Dan, with an attempt to look humorous, which signally failed.“Hallo, lads! where away?” said Adams, as they came up.“Just bin havin’ a walk and a talk, father,” answered Dan. “We saw you up here, and came to walk back with you.”“I’m not so sure that we’ll let you. The girls and I have been having a pleasant confab, an’ p’r’aps they don’t want to be interrupted.”“Oh, we don’t mind; they may come,” said Di Adams, with a laugh.So the youths joined the party, and they all descended the mountain in company.A footnote in Lady Belcher’s book tells us that this chronometer had been twice carried out by Captain Cook on his voyages of discovery. It was afterwards supplied to theBountywhen she was fitted out for what was to be her last voyage, and carried by the mutineers to Pitcairn Island. Captain Folger brought it away, but it was taken from him the same year by the governor of Juan Fernandez, and sold in Chili to A Caldeleugh, Esquire, of Valparaiso, from whom it was purchased by Captain, (afterwards Admiral), Sir T. Herbert for fifty guineas. That officer took it to China, and in 1843 brought it to England and transmitted it to the Admiralty, by which department it was presented to the United Service Museum, in Great Scotland Yard, where the writer saw it only a few days ago, and was told that it keeps excellent time still.
Great was the interest aroused on board theTopazwhen Jack Brace narrated his experiences among the islanders, and Captain Folger resolved to pay them a visit. He did so next day, accompanied by the Englishman and some of the other men, the sight of whom gladdened the eyes and hearts of Adams and his large family.
Besides assuring himself of the truth of Brace’s statements, the Captain obtained additional proof of the truth of Adams’s account of himself and his community in the form of the chronometer and azimuth compass of theBounty.
“How many did you say your colony consists of?” asked Folger.
“Thirty-five all told, sir,” answered Adams; “but I fear we shall be only thirty-four soon.”
“How so?”
“One of our lads, a dear boy of about eight years of age, is dying, I fear,” returned Adams, sadly.
“I’m sorry to hear it, and still more sorry that I have no doctor in my ship,” said Folger, “but I have a smatterin’ of doctors’ work myself. Let me see him.”
Adams led the way to the hut where poor James Young lay, tenderly nursed by Mary Christian. The boy was lying on his bed as they entered, gazing wistfully out at the little window which opened from the side of it like the port-lights or bull’s-eyes of a ship’s berth. His young nurse sat beside him with theBountyBible open on her knees. She shut it and rose as the strangers entered.
The poor invalid was too weak to take much interest in them. He was extremely thin, and breathed with great difficulty. Nevertheless his face flushed, and a gleam of surprise shot from his eyes as he turned languidly towards the Captain.
“My poor boy,” said Folger, taking his hand and gently feeling his pulse, “do you suffer much?”
“Yes,—very much,” said little James, with a sickly smile.
“Can you rest at all?” asked the Captain.
“I am—always—resting,” he replied, with a pause between each word; “resting—on Jesus.”
The Captain was evidently surprised by the answer.
“Who told you about Jesus?” he asked.
“God’s book—and—the Holy—Spirit.”
It was obvious that the exertion of thinking and talking was not good for poor little James. Captain Folger therefore, after smoothing the hair on his forehead once or twice very tenderly, bade him good-bye, and went out.
“Doctors could do nothing for the child,” he said, while returning with Adams to his house; “but he is rather to be envied than pitied. I would give much for therestwhich he apparently has found.”
“Givemuch!” exclaimed Adams, with an earnest look. “Rest in the Lord is not to be purchased by gifts. Itself is the grand free gift of God to man, to be had for the asking.”
“I know it,” was the Captain’s curt reply, as he entered Adams’s house. “Where got you the chronometer and azimuth compass?” he said, on observing these instruments.
“They belonged to theBounty. You are heartily welcome to both of them if you choose; they are of no use to me.” (See Note.)
Folger accepted the gift, and promised to write to England and acquaint the Government with his discovery of the colony.
“You see, sir,” said Adams, with a grave look, while hospitably entertaining his visitor that afternoon, “we are increasing at a great rate, and although they may perhaps take me home and swing me up to the yard-arm, I think it better to run the risk o’ that than to leave all these poor young things here unprotected. Why, just think what might happen if one o’ them traders which are little better than pirates were to come an’ find us here.”
He looked at the Captain earnestly.
“Now, if we were under the protection o’ the British flag—only just recognised, as it were,—that would go a long way to help us, and prevent mischief.”
At this point the importunities of some of the young people to hear about the outside world prevailed, and Folger began, as Jack Brace had done the day before, to tell them some of the most stirring events in the history of his own land.
But he soon found out that the mental capacity of the Pitcairners was like a bottomless pit. However much they got, they wanted more. Anecdote after anecdote, story after story, fact after fact, was thrown into the gulf, and still the cry was, “More! more!”
At last he tore himself away.
“Good-bye, and God bless you all,” he said, while stepping into the canoe which was to carry him off. “I won’t forget my promise.”
“And tell ’em to send us story-books,” shouted Daniel McCoy, as the canoe rose on the back of the breakers.
The Captain waved his hand. Most of the women and children wiped their eyes, and then they all ran to the heights to watch theTopazas she sailed away. They watched her till she vanished over that mysterious horizon which seemed to the Pitcairners the utmost boundary of the world, and some of them continued to gaze until the stars came out, and the gulls retired to bed, and the soft black mantle of night descended like a blessing of tranquillity on land and sea.
Before bidding theTopazfarewell, we may remark that Captain Folger faithfully fulfilled his promise. He wrote a letter to England giving a full account of his discovery of the retreat of the mutineers, which aroused much interest all over the land; but at that time the stirring events of warfare filled the minds of men in Europe so exclusively, that the lonely island and its inhabitants were soon forgotten—at least no action was taken by the Government—and six years elapsed before another vessel sailed out of the great world into the circle of vision around Pitcairn.
Meanwhile the Pitcairners, knowing that, even at the shortest, a long, long time must pass before Folger could communicate with the “old country,” continued the even tenor of their innocent lives.
The school prospered and became a vigorous institution. The church not less so. More children were born to Thursday October, insomuch that he at last had one for every working-day in the week; more yam-fields were cultivated, and more marriages took place—but hold, this is anticipating.
We have said that the school prospered. The entire community went to it, male and female, old and young. John Adams not only taught his pupils all he knew, but set himself laboriously to acquire all the knowledge that was to be obtained by severe study of the Bible, the Prayer-book. Carteret’s Voyages, and by original meditation. From the first mine he gathered and taught the grand, plain, and blessed truths about salvation through Jesus, together with a few tares of error resulting from misconception and imperfect reasoning. From the second he adopted the forms of worship of the Church of England. From the third he gleaned and amplified a modicum of nautical, geographical, and general information; and from the fourth he extracted a flood of miscellaneous, incomplete, and disjointed facts, fancies, and fallacies, which at all events served the good purpose of interesting his pupils and exercising their mental powers.
But into the midst of all this life death stepped and claimed a victim. The great destroyer came not, however, as an enemy but as a friend, to raise little James Young to that perfect rest of which he had already had a foretaste on the island.
It was the first death among the second generation, and naturally had a deeply solemnising effect on the young people. This occurred soon after the departure of theTopaz. The little grave was made under the shade of a palm-grove, where wild-flowers grew in abundance, and openings in the leafy canopy let in the glance of heaven’s blue eye.
One evening, about six months after this event, Adams went up the hill to an eminence to which he was fond of retiring when a knotty problem in arithmetic had to be tackled. Arithmetic was his chief difficulty. The soliloquy which he uttered on reaching his place of meditation will explain his perplexities.
“That ’rithmetic do bother me, an’ no mistake,” he said, with a grave shake of the head at a lively lizard which was looking up in his face. “You see, history is easy. What I knows I knows an’ can teach, an’ what I don’t know I let alone, an there’s an end on’t. There’s no makin’ a better o’that. Then, as to writin’, though my hand is crabbed enough, and my pot-hooks are shaky and sprawly, still I know the shapes o’ things, an’ the youngsters are so quick that they can most of ’em write better than myself; but in regard to that ’rithmetic, it’s a heartbreak altogether, for I’ve only just got enough of it to puzzle me. Wi’ the use o’ my fingers I can do simple addition pretty well, an’ I can screw round subtraction, but multiplication’s a terrible business. Unfort’nitely my edication has carried me only the length o’ the fourth line, an’ that ain’t enough.”
He paused, and the lively lizard, ready to fly at a moment’s notice, put its head on one side as if interested in the man’s difficulty.
“Seven times eight, now,” continued Adams. “I’ve no more notion what that is than the man in the moon. An’ I’ve no table to tell me, an’ no way o’ findin’ it out—eh? Why, yes I have. I’ll mark ’em down one at a time an’ count ’em up.”
He gave his thigh a slap, which sent the lively lizard into his hole, horrified.
“Poor thing, I didn’t mean that,” he said to the absent animal. “Hows’ever, I’ll try it. Why, I’ll make a multiplication-table for myself. Strange that that way never struck me before.”
As he went on muttering he busied himself in rubbing clean a flat surface of rock, on which, with a piece of reddish stone, he made a row of eight marks, one below another. Alongside of that he made another row of eight marks, and so on till he had put down seven rows, when he counted them up, and found the result to be fifty-six. This piece of acquired knowledge he jotted down in a little notebook, which, with a quantity of other stationery, had originally belonged to that great fountain of wealth, theBounty.
“Why, I’ll make out the whole table in this way,” he said, quite heartily, as he sat down again on the flat rock and went to work.
Of course he found the process laborious, especially when he got among the higher numbers; but Adams was not a man to be turned from his purpose by trifles. He persevered until his efforts were crowned with success.
While he was engaged with the multiplication problem on that day, he was interrupted by the sound of merry voices, and soon Otaheitan Sally, Bessy Mills, May Christian, Sarah Quintal, and his own daughter Dinah, came tripping up the hill towards him.
These five, ranging from fifteen to nineteen, were fond of rambling through the woods in company, being not only the older members of the young flock, but like-minded in many things. Sally was looked up to by the other four as being the eldest and wisest, as well as the most beautiful; and truly, the fine clear complexion of the pretty brunette contrasted well with their fairer skins and golden or light-brown locks.
“We came up to have a chat with you, father,” said Sally, as they drew near. “Are you too busy to be bothered with us?”
“Never too busy to chat with such dear girls,” said the gallant seaman, throwing down his piece of red chalk, and taking one of Sally’s hands in his. “Sit down, Sall; sit down, May, on the other side—there. Now, what have you come to chat about?”
“About that dearTopaz, of course, and that darling Captain Folger, and Jack Brace, and all the rest of them,” answered Sarah Quintal, with sparkling eyes.
“Hallo, Sarah! you’ve sent your heart away with them, I fear,” said Adams.
“Not quite, but nearly,” returned Sarah. “I would give anything if the whole crew would only have stayed with us altogether.”
“Oh! how charming! delightful!sonice!” exclaimed three of the others. Sally said nothing, but gave a little smile, which sent a sparkle from her pearly teeth that harmonised well with the gleam of her laughter-loving eyes.
“No doubt,” said Adams, with a peculiar laugh; “but, I say, girls, you must not go on thinking for ever about that ship. Why, it is six months or more since it left us, and you are all as full of it as if it had sailed but yesterday.”
“How can we help it, father?” said Sally. “It is about the most wonderful thing that has happened since we were born, and you can’t expect us to get it out of our heads easily.”
“And how can we help thinking, and talking too,” said Bessy Mills, “about all the new and strange things that Jack Brace related to us?”
“Besides, father,” said Dinah, “you are quite as bad as we are, for you talk about nothing else now, almost, except Lord Nelson and the battles of the Nile and Trafalgar.”
“Come, come, Di; don’t be hard on me. I don’t say much about them battles now.”
“Indeed you do,” cried May Christian, “and it is only last night that I heard you muttering something about Trafalgar in your sleep, and you suddenly broke out with a half-muttered shout like this: ‘Englan’ ’specs every man’ll do’s dooty!’”
May was not a bad mimic. This was received with a shout of laughter by the other girls.
While they were conversing thus two tall and slim but broad-shouldered youths were seen climbing the hill towards them, engaged in very earnest conversation. And this reference to conversation reminds us of the curious fact that the language of the young Pitcairners had greatly improved of late. As they had no other living model to improve upon than John Adams, this must have been entirely the result of reading. Although the books they had were few, they proved to be sufficient not only to fill their minds with higher thoughts, but their mouths with purer English than that nautical type which had been peculiar to the mutineers.
The tall striplings who now approached were Daniel McCoy and Charlie Christian. These two were great friends and confidants. We will not reveal the subject of their remarkably earnest conversation, but merely give the concluding sentences.
“Well, Charlie,” said Dan, as they came in view of the knoll on which Adams and the girls were seated, “we will pluck up courage and make a dash at it together.”
“Ye-es,” said Charlie, with hesitation.
“And shall we break the ice by referring to Toc’s condition, eh?” said Dan.
“Well, it seems to me the easiest plan; perhaps I should say the least difficult,” returned Charlie, with a faint smile.
“Come, don’t lose heart, Charlie,” said Dan, with an attempt to look humorous, which signally failed.
“Hallo, lads! where away?” said Adams, as they came up.
“Just bin havin’ a walk and a talk, father,” answered Dan. “We saw you up here, and came to walk back with you.”
“I’m not so sure that we’ll let you. The girls and I have been having a pleasant confab, an’ p’r’aps they don’t want to be interrupted.”
“Oh, we don’t mind; they may come,” said Di Adams, with a laugh.
So the youths joined the party, and they all descended the mountain in company.
A footnote in Lady Belcher’s book tells us that this chronometer had been twice carried out by Captain Cook on his voyages of discovery. It was afterwards supplied to theBountywhen she was fitted out for what was to be her last voyage, and carried by the mutineers to Pitcairn Island. Captain Folger brought it away, but it was taken from him the same year by the governor of Juan Fernandez, and sold in Chili to A Caldeleugh, Esquire, of Valparaiso, from whom it was purchased by Captain, (afterwards Admiral), Sir T. Herbert for fifty guineas. That officer took it to China, and in 1843 brought it to England and transmitted it to the Admiralty, by which department it was presented to the United Service Museum, in Great Scotland Yard, where the writer saw it only a few days ago, and was told that it keeps excellent time still.
Chapter Thirty One.Treats of Interesting Matters.Of course Charlie Christian gravitated towards Sally, and these two, falling slowly behind the rest, soon turned aside, and descended by another of the numerous paths which traversed that part of the mountain.Of course, also, Daniel McCoy drew near to Sarah Quintal, and these two, falling slowly behind, sought another of the mountain-paths. It will be seen that these young people were charmingly unsophisticated.For a considerable time Charlie walked beside Sally without uttering a word, and Sally, seeing that there was something on his mind, kept silence. At last Charlie lifted his eyes from the ground, and with the same innocent gaze with which, as an infant, he had been wont to look up to his guardian, he now looked down at her, and said, “Sally.”“Well, Charlie?”There was a little smile lurking about the corners of the girl’s mouth, which seemed to play hide-and-seek with the twinkle in her downcast eyes.“Well, Charlie, what are you going to tell me?”“Isn’t Toc—very—happy?”He blushed to the roots of his hair when he said this, and dropped his eyes again on the ground.“Of course he is,” replied Sally, with a touch of surprise.“But—but—I mean, as—”“Well, why don’t you go on, Charlie?”“I mean as a—a married man.”“Every one sees and knows that, Charlie.” There was another silence, during which the timid youth cleared his throat several times. At last he became desperate.“And—and—Sally, don’t you think thatotherpeople might be happy too if they were married?”“To be sure they might,” said the girl, with provoking coolness. “There’s Dan McCoy, now, and Sarah Quintal, they will be very happy when—”“Why, how doyouknow?”—Charlie spoke with a look of surprise and stopped short.The girl laughed in a low tone, but did not reply, and the youth, becoming still more desperate, said—“But I—I didn’t mean Dan and Sarah, when I—Oh, Sally, don’t youknowthat I love you?”“Yes, I know that,” replied the girl, with a blush and a little tremulous smile. “I couldn’t help knowing that.”“Have I made it so plain, then?” he asked, in surprise.“Haven’t you followed me ever since you were a staggerer?” asked Sally, with a simple look.“O yes, of course—but—but I love you farfarmore now. In short, I want to marry you, Sally.”He had reached the culminating point at last. “Well, Charlie, why don’t you ask father’s leave?” said the maiden.“And you agree?” he exclaimed, timidly taking her hand.“Oh, Charlie,” returned Sally, looking up in his face, with an arch smile, “how stupid you are! Nothing goes into your dear head without such a deal of hammering. Will you never become wise, and—”Charlie became wise at last, and stopped her impudent mouth effectively; but she broke from him and ran into the woods, while he went down to the village to tell Adams.Meanwhile Daniel McCoy led Sarah Quintal by a round-about path to the cliffs above Pitcairn.Pretty little Sarah was timid, and had a vague suspicion of something that caused her heart to flutter.“I say, Sarah,” said the bold and stalwart Dan, “did you ever see such a jolly couple as Toc and his wife before?”“I never saw any couple before, you know,” replied the girl, simply, “except father Adams and his wife.”“Well, they are an oldish couple,” returned Dan, with a laugh; “but it’s my opinion that before long you’ll see a good many more couples—young ones, too.”“Indeed,” said Sarah, becoming much interested, for this was the first time that any young man had ventured to refer to such a subject, though she and her female companions had often canvassed the possibilities that surrounded them.“Yes, indeed,” returned Dan. “Let me see, now. There’s Charlie Christian and Otaheitan Sally—”“Why, how did you come to knowthat?” asked Sarah, in genuine surprise.Dan laughed heartily. “Come to know what?” he asked.“That—that he is fond of Sally,” stammered Sarah.“Why, everybody knows that,” returned Dan; “the very gulls must be aware of it by this time, unless they are geese.”“Yes, of course,” said the poor girl, blushing crimson at the thought of having been led almost to betray her friend’s confidences.“Well, then,” continued Dan, “Charlie and Sall bein’ so fond o’ one another—”“I did not say that Sally was fond of Charlie,” interrupted Sarah, quickly.“Ohdearno!” said Dan, with deep solemnity; “ofcourseyou didn’t; nevertheless I know it, and it wouldn’t surprise me much if something came of it—a wedding, for instance.”Sarah, being afraid to commit herself in some way if she opened her lips, said nothing, but gazed intently at the ground as they walked slowly among the sweet-scented shrubs.“But there’s one o’ the boys that wants to marryyou, Sarah Quintal, and it is for him I want to put in a good word to-day.”A flutter of surprise, mingled with dismay at her heart, tended still further to confuse the poor girl. Not knowing what to say, she stammered, “Indeed! Who can it—it—” and stopped short.“They sometimes call him Dan,” said the youth, suddenly grasping Sarah’s hand and passing an arm round her waist, “but his full name is Daniel McCoy.”Sarah Quintal became as suddenly pale now as she had formerly become red, and struggled to get free.“Oh, Dan, Dan, don’t!” she cried, earnestly; “dolet me go, if you love me!”“Well, I will, if you say I may speak to Father Adams about it.”Sarah’s answer was quite inaudible to ordinary ears, but it caused Dan to loosen his hold; and the girl, bounding away like a frightened gazelle, disappeared among the palm-groves.“Well,” exclaimed Dan, thrusting both hands into his trousers-pockets as he walked smartly down the hill, “youarethe dearest girl in all the world. There can’t be two opinions on that point.”Dan’s world was a remarkably small one, as worlds go, but it was quite large enough to fill his heart to overflowing at that time.In turning into another path he almost ran against Charlie Christian.“Well?” exclaimed Charlie, with a brilliant smile. “Well?” repeated Dan, with a beaming countenance.“All right,” said Charlie.“Ditto,” said Dan, as he took his friend’s arm, and hastened to the abode of John Adams, the great referee in all important matters.They found him seated at his table, with the big Bible open before him.“Well, my lads,” he said, with a kindly smile as they entered, “you find me meditatin’ over a verse that seems to me full o’ suggestive thoughts.”“Yes, father, what is it?” asked Dan.“‘A prudent wife is from the Lord.’ You’ll find it in the nineteenth chapter o’ Proverbs.”The youths looked at each other in great surprise. “It is very strange,” said Charlie, “that you should hit upon that text to-day.”“Why so, Charlie?”“Because—because—we came to—that is to say, we want to—”“Get spliced, Charlie; out with it, man. You keep shuffling about the edge like a timid boy goin’ to dive into deep water for the first time.”“Well, and so itisdeep water,” replied Charlie; “so deep that we can’t fathom it easily; and thisisthe first time too.”“The fact is, you’ve come to tell me,” said Adams, looking at Charlie, “that you want to marry Otaheitan Sally, and that Dan there wants to marry Sarah Quintal. Is it not so?”“I think, father, you must be a wizard,” said Dan, with a surprised look. “How did you come to guess it?”“I didn’t guess it, lad; I saw it as plain as the nose on your own face. Anybody could see it with half an eye. Why, I’ve seen it for years past; but that’s not the point. The first question is, Are you able to feed your wives without requirin’ them to work too hard in the fields?”“Yes, father,” answered Dan, promptly. “Charlie helped me, and I helped him, and so we’ve both got enough of land enclosed and stocked to keep our—our—wives comfortably,” (even Dan looked modest here!) “without requiring them to work at all, for a long time at least.”“Well. I don’t want ’em not to work at all—that’s good for neither man, nor woman, nor beast. Even child’n work hard, poor things, while playin’ at pretendin’ to work. However, I’m glad to hear you are ready. Of course I knew what you were up to all along. Now, you’ll want to borrow a few odds an’ ends from the general stock, therefore go an’ make out lists of what you require, and I’ll see about it. Is it long since you arranged it wi’ the girls?”“About half-an-hour,” returned Dan.“H’m! sharp practice. You’ll be the better of meditation for a week or two. Now, get along with you, lads, and think of the word I have given you from God’s book about marriage. I’ll not keep you waitin’ longer than I think right.”So Dan and Charlie left the presence-chamber of their nautical ruler, quite content to wait for a couple of weeks, having plenty to keep them employed, body and mind, in labouring in their gardens, perfecting the arrangements of their respective cottages, and making out lists of the various things they required to borrow. In all of which operations they were lovingly assisted by their intended wives, with a matter-of-fact gravity that would have been quite touching if it had not been half ridiculous.The list of things to be borrowed was made out in accordance with a system of barter, exchange, and loan, which had begun in necessity, and was afterwards conducted on regular principles by Adams, who kept a systematic journal and record of accounts, in which he entered the nature and quantity of work performed by each family, what each had received, and what each was due on account. The exchanges also were made in a systematic manner. Thus, when one family had too many salt fish, and another had too much fruit or vegetables, a fair exchange restored the equilibrium to the satisfaction of both parties; and when the stores of one family were exhausted, a fresh supply was raised for it from the general possessions of all the rest, to be repaid, however, in exact measure when the suffering family should be again in affluence, through good harvests and hard work. All details were minutely noted down by Adams, so that injustice to individuals or to the community at large was avoided.It is interesting to trace, in this well-conducted colony, the great root-principles on which the colossal system of the world’s commerce and trade has been reared, and to recognise in John Adams the germs of those principles of equity and method which have raised England to her high commercial position. But still more interesting is it to recognise in him that good seed, the love of God and His truth, spiritual, intellectual, and material, which, originated by the Holy Spirit, and founded in Jesus Christ, produces the “righteousness that exalteth a nation.”When the short period of probation was past, Charlie Christian became the happy husband of the girl whom he had all but worshipped from the earliest rememberable days of infancy, and Dan McCoy was united to Sarah Quintal. As in the first case of marriage, Otaheitan Sall was older than her husband; but in her case the difference was so slight as scarcely to be worth mentioning. As to appearance, tall, serious, strapping Charlielookedold enough to have been Sally’s father.The wedding-day was a day of great rejoicing, considerable solemnity, and not a little fun; for the religion of the Pitcairners, being drawn direct from the inspired Word, was the reverse of dolorous. Indeed, the simplicity of their faith was extreme, for it consisted in merely asking the question, “What does God wish me to do?” anddoing it.Of course the simplicity of this rule was, in Pitcairn as elsewhere, unrecognised by ignorance, or rendered hazy and involved by stupidity. Adams had his own difficulties in combating the effects of evil in the hearts of his children, for, as we have said before, they were by no means perfect, though unusually good.For instance, one day one of those boys who was passing into the hobbledehoy stage of life, came with a perplexed air, and said—“Didn’t you tell us in school yesterday, father, that if we were good Jesus would save us?”“No, Jack Mills, I told you just the reverse. I told you that if Jesus saved you you would be good.”“Then why doesn’t He save me and make me good?” asked Jack, anxious to cast the blame of his indecision about his salvation off his own shoulders.“Because you refuse to be saved,” said Adams, pointedly.Jack Mills felt and looked somewhat hurt at this. He was one of the steadiest boys at the school, always learned his tasks well, and was generally pretty well behaved; but there was in him an ugly, half-hidden root of selfishness, which he did not himself perceive.“Do you remember going to the shore yesterday?” asked Adams, replying to the look,—for the boy did not speak.“Yes, father.”“And you remember that two little boys had just got into a canoe, and were pushing off to enjoy themselves, when you ran down, turned them out, and took the canoe to yourself?”Jack did not reply; but his flushed face told that he had not forgotten the incident.“That’s right, dear boy,” continued Adam, “Your blood tells the truth for you, and your tongue don’t contradict it. So long’s you keep the unruly member straight you’ll get along. Well, now, Jack, that was a sin of unkindness, and a sort of robbery, too, for the canoe belonged to the boys while they had possession. Did you want to be saved from that sin, my boy?”Jack was still silent. He knew that he had not wished to be saved at the time, because, if he had, he would have at once returned to the shore and restored the canoe, with an apology for having taken it by force.“But I was sorry afterwards, father,” pleaded the boy.“I know you were, Jack, and your guilty conscience longed for forgiveness. But Jesus did not come to this world to forgive us. He came to save us—to save this people from their sins;Hispeople,—forgivenpeople, my boy,—from their sins. If you had looked to Jesus, He would have sent His Spirit into you, and brought His Word to your mind, ‘Be ye kind one to another,’ or, ‘Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them:’ or in some way or other He would have turned you back and saved you from sin, but you did not look to Jesus; in short, you refused to be saved just then, and thought to make up for it by being sorry afterwards. Isn’t that the way of it, Jack?”“Yes, father,” said Jack, with downcast but no longer hurt looks, for Adams’s tone and manner were very kind.“Then you know now, Jack Mills, why you’re not yet saved, and you can’t be good till youaresaved, any more than you can fly till you’ve got wings. But don’t be cast down, my lad; He will save you yet. All you’ve got to do is tocease your opposition, and let Him take you in hand.”Thus, or in some such way, did this God-appointed pastor lead his little flock from day to day and year to year.But to return from this digression.We have said that the double wedding-day was one of mingled rejoicing, solemnity, and fun. If you insist on further explanation, good reader, and want to know something more about the rejoicing, we can only direct you to yonder clump of blossoming plants in the shade of the palm-grove. There you will find Charlie Christian looking timidly down into the gorgeous orbs of Otaheitan Sally as they hold sweet converse of things past, present, and to come. They have been so trained in ways of righteousness, that the omission of the world-to-come from their love-making, (not flirtation, observe), would be as ridiculous as the absence of reference to the wedding-day.On the other side of the same knoll Daniel McCoy sits by the side of modest Sarah Quintal, his only half-tamed spirit torn by the conflicting emotions aroused by a compound of jollity, love, joy, thankfulness, and fun, which render his words too incoherent to be worthy of record.In regard to solemnity, reader, we refer you to the little school-room, which also serves for a chapel, where John Adams, in tones befitting a bishop and with feelings worthy of an apostle, reads the marriage service in the midst of the assembled population of the island. He has a brass curtain-ring which did duty at the marriage of Thursday October Christian, and which is destined to do duty in similar circumstances in many coming years. The knots are soon tied. There are no sad tears, for at Pitcairn there are no partings of parents and children, but there are many tears of joy, for Adams’s words are telling though few, and his prayers are brief but deeply impressive, while the people, young and middle-aged, are powerfully sympathetic. The most of the girls break down when Adams draws to an abrupt close, and most of the youths find it hard to behave like men.They succeed, however, and then the wedding party goes off to have a spell of fun.If you had been there, reader, to behold things for yourself, it is not improbable that some of the solemnity of the wedding would have been scattered, (for you, at least), and some of the fun introduced too soon, for the costumes of the chief actors were not perfect; indeed, not quite appropriate, according to our ideas of the fitness of things.It is not that we could object to the bare feet of nearly all the party, for to such we are accustomed among our own poor. Neither could we find the slightest fault with the brides. Their simple loose robes, flowing hair, and wreaths of natural flowers, were in perfect keeping with the beauty of their faces. But the garb of guileless Charlie Christian was incongruous, to say the least of it. During the visit of theTopaza few old clothes had been given by the seamen to the islanders, and Charlie had become the proud possessor of a huge black beaver hat, which had to be put on sidewise to prevent its settling down on the back of his neck; also, of a blue dress-coat with brass buttons, the waist and sleeves of which were much too short, and the tails unaccountably long; likewise, of a pair of Wellington boots, the tops of which did not, by four inches, reach the legs of his native trousers, and therefore displayed that amount of brawny, well-made limbs, while the absence of a vest and the impossibility of buttoning the coat left a broad, sunburnt expanse of manly chest exposed to view. But such is the difference of opinion resulting from difference of custom, that not a muscle of any face moved when he appeared, save in open admiration, though there was just the shade of a twinkle for one moment in the eye of John Adams, for he had seen other, though not better, days.Even Dan’s excitable sense of the ridiculous was not touched. Himself, indeed, was a greater guy than Charlie, for he wore a richly-flowered vest, so tight that it would hardly button, and had been split up the back while being put on. As he wore a shell-jacket, much too short for him, this accident to the vest and a portion of his powerful back were clearly revealed.But these things were trifles on that great day, and when the fun did begin, it was kept up with spirit. First, the greater part of the population went to the beach for a little surf-sliding. It is not necessary to repeat our description of that exercise. The waves were in splendid order.It seemed as if the great Pacific itself were pulsating with unwonted joy. The billows were bigger grander, almost slower and more sedate than usual. Outside it was dead calm. The fall of each liquid wall was more thunderous, its roar more deep-toned, and the confusion of the surf more riotous than ever. For average rejoicers this exercise might in itself have sufficed for one day, but they were used to it, and wanted variety; so the youths took to racing on the sands, and the maidens to applauding, while the elderly looked on and criticised. The small children went, loosely speaking, mad.Some there were who went off on their own accounts, and cast a few of those shadows which are said to precede “coming events.” Others, less poetically inclined just then, remained in the village to prepare roast pig, yam-pie, and those various delicacies compounded of fruits and vegetables, which they knew from experience would be in great demand ere long.As evening descended they all returned to the village, and at sunset hauled down their flag.This flag, by the way, was another souvenir of theTopaz. It was an old Union Jack, for which Adams had set up a flagstaff, having by that time ceased to dread the approach of a ship. By Jack Brace he had been reminded of the date of the king’s birthday, and by a strange coincidence that happened to be the very day on which the two couples were united. Hence there was a double, (perhaps we should say a treble), reason for rejoicing. As John Adams was now endeavouring to undo the evils of his former life, he naturally became an enthusiastic loyalist. On passing the flagstaff he called for three cheers for the British king, and with his own voice led off the first verse of the national anthem before hauling down the colours. Thereafter, assembling round the festive board in the school-room, they proceeded to take physical nourishment, with the memory of mental food strong upon them. Before the meal a profound hush fell on all the scene, and the deep voice of Adams was heard asking a blessing on the food they were about to receive. Thanks were returned with equal solemnity after meat. Then the tables were cleared, and games became the order of the evening. When a point of semi-exhaustion was reached, a story was called for, and the nautical pastor at once launched into oceans of imagination and fancy, in which he bid fair to be wrecked and drowned. During the recital of this the falling of a pin would have been heard, if there had been such a thing as a pin at Pitcairn to fall.Last, but not least, came blind-man’s-buff. This exhausted the last spark of physical energy left even in the strongest. But the mental and spiritual powers were still vigorous, so that when they all sat down in quiescence round the room, and Toc took down the family Bible from its accustomed shelf and set it before Adams, they were all, young and old, in a suitable state of mind to join in the worship of Him who had given them the capacity, as well as the opportunity, to enjoy that glorious and ever memorable day.
Of course Charlie Christian gravitated towards Sally, and these two, falling slowly behind the rest, soon turned aside, and descended by another of the numerous paths which traversed that part of the mountain.
Of course, also, Daniel McCoy drew near to Sarah Quintal, and these two, falling slowly behind, sought another of the mountain-paths. It will be seen that these young people were charmingly unsophisticated.
For a considerable time Charlie walked beside Sally without uttering a word, and Sally, seeing that there was something on his mind, kept silence. At last Charlie lifted his eyes from the ground, and with the same innocent gaze with which, as an infant, he had been wont to look up to his guardian, he now looked down at her, and said, “Sally.”
“Well, Charlie?”
There was a little smile lurking about the corners of the girl’s mouth, which seemed to play hide-and-seek with the twinkle in her downcast eyes.
“Well, Charlie, what are you going to tell me?”
“Isn’t Toc—very—happy?”
He blushed to the roots of his hair when he said this, and dropped his eyes again on the ground.
“Of course he is,” replied Sally, with a touch of surprise.
“But—but—I mean, as—”
“Well, why don’t you go on, Charlie?”
“I mean as a—a married man.”
“Every one sees and knows that, Charlie.” There was another silence, during which the timid youth cleared his throat several times. At last he became desperate.
“And—and—Sally, don’t you think thatotherpeople might be happy too if they were married?”
“To be sure they might,” said the girl, with provoking coolness. “There’s Dan McCoy, now, and Sarah Quintal, they will be very happy when—”
“Why, how doyouknow?”—Charlie spoke with a look of surprise and stopped short.
The girl laughed in a low tone, but did not reply, and the youth, becoming still more desperate, said—
“But I—I didn’t mean Dan and Sarah, when I—Oh, Sally, don’t youknowthat I love you?”
“Yes, I know that,” replied the girl, with a blush and a little tremulous smile. “I couldn’t help knowing that.”
“Have I made it so plain, then?” he asked, in surprise.
“Haven’t you followed me ever since you were a staggerer?” asked Sally, with a simple look.
“O yes, of course—but—but I love you farfarmore now. In short, I want to marry you, Sally.”
He had reached the culminating point at last. “Well, Charlie, why don’t you ask father’s leave?” said the maiden.
“And you agree?” he exclaimed, timidly taking her hand.
“Oh, Charlie,” returned Sally, looking up in his face, with an arch smile, “how stupid you are! Nothing goes into your dear head without such a deal of hammering. Will you never become wise, and—”
Charlie became wise at last, and stopped her impudent mouth effectively; but she broke from him and ran into the woods, while he went down to the village to tell Adams.
Meanwhile Daniel McCoy led Sarah Quintal by a round-about path to the cliffs above Pitcairn.
Pretty little Sarah was timid, and had a vague suspicion of something that caused her heart to flutter.
“I say, Sarah,” said the bold and stalwart Dan, “did you ever see such a jolly couple as Toc and his wife before?”
“I never saw any couple before, you know,” replied the girl, simply, “except father Adams and his wife.”
“Well, they are an oldish couple,” returned Dan, with a laugh; “but it’s my opinion that before long you’ll see a good many more couples—young ones, too.”
“Indeed,” said Sarah, becoming much interested, for this was the first time that any young man had ventured to refer to such a subject, though she and her female companions had often canvassed the possibilities that surrounded them.
“Yes, indeed,” returned Dan. “Let me see, now. There’s Charlie Christian and Otaheitan Sally—”
“Why, how did you come to knowthat?” asked Sarah, in genuine surprise.
Dan laughed heartily. “Come to know what?” he asked.
“That—that he is fond of Sally,” stammered Sarah.
“Why, everybody knows that,” returned Dan; “the very gulls must be aware of it by this time, unless they are geese.”
“Yes, of course,” said the poor girl, blushing crimson at the thought of having been led almost to betray her friend’s confidences.
“Well, then,” continued Dan, “Charlie and Sall bein’ so fond o’ one another—”
“I did not say that Sally was fond of Charlie,” interrupted Sarah, quickly.
“Ohdearno!” said Dan, with deep solemnity; “ofcourseyou didn’t; nevertheless I know it, and it wouldn’t surprise me much if something came of it—a wedding, for instance.”
Sarah, being afraid to commit herself in some way if she opened her lips, said nothing, but gazed intently at the ground as they walked slowly among the sweet-scented shrubs.
“But there’s one o’ the boys that wants to marryyou, Sarah Quintal, and it is for him I want to put in a good word to-day.”
A flutter of surprise, mingled with dismay at her heart, tended still further to confuse the poor girl. Not knowing what to say, she stammered, “Indeed! Who can it—it—” and stopped short.
“They sometimes call him Dan,” said the youth, suddenly grasping Sarah’s hand and passing an arm round her waist, “but his full name is Daniel McCoy.”
Sarah Quintal became as suddenly pale now as she had formerly become red, and struggled to get free.
“Oh, Dan, Dan, don’t!” she cried, earnestly; “dolet me go, if you love me!”
“Well, I will, if you say I may speak to Father Adams about it.”
Sarah’s answer was quite inaudible to ordinary ears, but it caused Dan to loosen his hold; and the girl, bounding away like a frightened gazelle, disappeared among the palm-groves.
“Well,” exclaimed Dan, thrusting both hands into his trousers-pockets as he walked smartly down the hill, “youarethe dearest girl in all the world. There can’t be two opinions on that point.”
Dan’s world was a remarkably small one, as worlds go, but it was quite large enough to fill his heart to overflowing at that time.
In turning into another path he almost ran against Charlie Christian.
“Well?” exclaimed Charlie, with a brilliant smile. “Well?” repeated Dan, with a beaming countenance.
“All right,” said Charlie.
“Ditto,” said Dan, as he took his friend’s arm, and hastened to the abode of John Adams, the great referee in all important matters.
They found him seated at his table, with the big Bible open before him.
“Well, my lads,” he said, with a kindly smile as they entered, “you find me meditatin’ over a verse that seems to me full o’ suggestive thoughts.”
“Yes, father, what is it?” asked Dan.
“‘A prudent wife is from the Lord.’ You’ll find it in the nineteenth chapter o’ Proverbs.”
The youths looked at each other in great surprise. “It is very strange,” said Charlie, “that you should hit upon that text to-day.”
“Why so, Charlie?”
“Because—because—we came to—that is to say, we want to—”
“Get spliced, Charlie; out with it, man. You keep shuffling about the edge like a timid boy goin’ to dive into deep water for the first time.”
“Well, and so itisdeep water,” replied Charlie; “so deep that we can’t fathom it easily; and thisisthe first time too.”
“The fact is, you’ve come to tell me,” said Adams, looking at Charlie, “that you want to marry Otaheitan Sally, and that Dan there wants to marry Sarah Quintal. Is it not so?”
“I think, father, you must be a wizard,” said Dan, with a surprised look. “How did you come to guess it?”
“I didn’t guess it, lad; I saw it as plain as the nose on your own face. Anybody could see it with half an eye. Why, I’ve seen it for years past; but that’s not the point. The first question is, Are you able to feed your wives without requirin’ them to work too hard in the fields?”
“Yes, father,” answered Dan, promptly. “Charlie helped me, and I helped him, and so we’ve both got enough of land enclosed and stocked to keep our—our—wives comfortably,” (even Dan looked modest here!) “without requiring them to work at all, for a long time at least.”
“Well. I don’t want ’em not to work at all—that’s good for neither man, nor woman, nor beast. Even child’n work hard, poor things, while playin’ at pretendin’ to work. However, I’m glad to hear you are ready. Of course I knew what you were up to all along. Now, you’ll want to borrow a few odds an’ ends from the general stock, therefore go an’ make out lists of what you require, and I’ll see about it. Is it long since you arranged it wi’ the girls?”
“About half-an-hour,” returned Dan.
“H’m! sharp practice. You’ll be the better of meditation for a week or two. Now, get along with you, lads, and think of the word I have given you from God’s book about marriage. I’ll not keep you waitin’ longer than I think right.”
So Dan and Charlie left the presence-chamber of their nautical ruler, quite content to wait for a couple of weeks, having plenty to keep them employed, body and mind, in labouring in their gardens, perfecting the arrangements of their respective cottages, and making out lists of the various things they required to borrow. In all of which operations they were lovingly assisted by their intended wives, with a matter-of-fact gravity that would have been quite touching if it had not been half ridiculous.
The list of things to be borrowed was made out in accordance with a system of barter, exchange, and loan, which had begun in necessity, and was afterwards conducted on regular principles by Adams, who kept a systematic journal and record of accounts, in which he entered the nature and quantity of work performed by each family, what each had received, and what each was due on account. The exchanges also were made in a systematic manner. Thus, when one family had too many salt fish, and another had too much fruit or vegetables, a fair exchange restored the equilibrium to the satisfaction of both parties; and when the stores of one family were exhausted, a fresh supply was raised for it from the general possessions of all the rest, to be repaid, however, in exact measure when the suffering family should be again in affluence, through good harvests and hard work. All details were minutely noted down by Adams, so that injustice to individuals or to the community at large was avoided.
It is interesting to trace, in this well-conducted colony, the great root-principles on which the colossal system of the world’s commerce and trade has been reared, and to recognise in John Adams the germs of those principles of equity and method which have raised England to her high commercial position. But still more interesting is it to recognise in him that good seed, the love of God and His truth, spiritual, intellectual, and material, which, originated by the Holy Spirit, and founded in Jesus Christ, produces the “righteousness that exalteth a nation.”
When the short period of probation was past, Charlie Christian became the happy husband of the girl whom he had all but worshipped from the earliest rememberable days of infancy, and Dan McCoy was united to Sarah Quintal. As in the first case of marriage, Otaheitan Sall was older than her husband; but in her case the difference was so slight as scarcely to be worth mentioning. As to appearance, tall, serious, strapping Charlielookedold enough to have been Sally’s father.
The wedding-day was a day of great rejoicing, considerable solemnity, and not a little fun; for the religion of the Pitcairners, being drawn direct from the inspired Word, was the reverse of dolorous. Indeed, the simplicity of their faith was extreme, for it consisted in merely asking the question, “What does God wish me to do?” anddoing it.
Of course the simplicity of this rule was, in Pitcairn as elsewhere, unrecognised by ignorance, or rendered hazy and involved by stupidity. Adams had his own difficulties in combating the effects of evil in the hearts of his children, for, as we have said before, they were by no means perfect, though unusually good.
For instance, one day one of those boys who was passing into the hobbledehoy stage of life, came with a perplexed air, and said—
“Didn’t you tell us in school yesterday, father, that if we were good Jesus would save us?”
“No, Jack Mills, I told you just the reverse. I told you that if Jesus saved you you would be good.”
“Then why doesn’t He save me and make me good?” asked Jack, anxious to cast the blame of his indecision about his salvation off his own shoulders.
“Because you refuse to be saved,” said Adams, pointedly.
Jack Mills felt and looked somewhat hurt at this. He was one of the steadiest boys at the school, always learned his tasks well, and was generally pretty well behaved; but there was in him an ugly, half-hidden root of selfishness, which he did not himself perceive.
“Do you remember going to the shore yesterday?” asked Adams, replying to the look,—for the boy did not speak.
“Yes, father.”
“And you remember that two little boys had just got into a canoe, and were pushing off to enjoy themselves, when you ran down, turned them out, and took the canoe to yourself?”
Jack did not reply; but his flushed face told that he had not forgotten the incident.
“That’s right, dear boy,” continued Adam, “Your blood tells the truth for you, and your tongue don’t contradict it. So long’s you keep the unruly member straight you’ll get along. Well, now, Jack, that was a sin of unkindness, and a sort of robbery, too, for the canoe belonged to the boys while they had possession. Did you want to be saved from that sin, my boy?”
Jack was still silent. He knew that he had not wished to be saved at the time, because, if he had, he would have at once returned to the shore and restored the canoe, with an apology for having taken it by force.
“But I was sorry afterwards, father,” pleaded the boy.
“I know you were, Jack, and your guilty conscience longed for forgiveness. But Jesus did not come to this world to forgive us. He came to save us—to save this people from their sins;Hispeople,—forgivenpeople, my boy,—from their sins. If you had looked to Jesus, He would have sent His Spirit into you, and brought His Word to your mind, ‘Be ye kind one to another,’ or, ‘Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them:’ or in some way or other He would have turned you back and saved you from sin, but you did not look to Jesus; in short, you refused to be saved just then, and thought to make up for it by being sorry afterwards. Isn’t that the way of it, Jack?”
“Yes, father,” said Jack, with downcast but no longer hurt looks, for Adams’s tone and manner were very kind.
“Then you know now, Jack Mills, why you’re not yet saved, and you can’t be good till youaresaved, any more than you can fly till you’ve got wings. But don’t be cast down, my lad; He will save you yet. All you’ve got to do is tocease your opposition, and let Him take you in hand.”
Thus, or in some such way, did this God-appointed pastor lead his little flock from day to day and year to year.
But to return from this digression.
We have said that the double wedding-day was one of mingled rejoicing, solemnity, and fun. If you insist on further explanation, good reader, and want to know something more about the rejoicing, we can only direct you to yonder clump of blossoming plants in the shade of the palm-grove. There you will find Charlie Christian looking timidly down into the gorgeous orbs of Otaheitan Sally as they hold sweet converse of things past, present, and to come. They have been so trained in ways of righteousness, that the omission of the world-to-come from their love-making, (not flirtation, observe), would be as ridiculous as the absence of reference to the wedding-day.
On the other side of the same knoll Daniel McCoy sits by the side of modest Sarah Quintal, his only half-tamed spirit torn by the conflicting emotions aroused by a compound of jollity, love, joy, thankfulness, and fun, which render his words too incoherent to be worthy of record.
In regard to solemnity, reader, we refer you to the little school-room, which also serves for a chapel, where John Adams, in tones befitting a bishop and with feelings worthy of an apostle, reads the marriage service in the midst of the assembled population of the island. He has a brass curtain-ring which did duty at the marriage of Thursday October Christian, and which is destined to do duty in similar circumstances in many coming years. The knots are soon tied. There are no sad tears, for at Pitcairn there are no partings of parents and children, but there are many tears of joy, for Adams’s words are telling though few, and his prayers are brief but deeply impressive, while the people, young and middle-aged, are powerfully sympathetic. The most of the girls break down when Adams draws to an abrupt close, and most of the youths find it hard to behave like men.
They succeed, however, and then the wedding party goes off to have a spell of fun.
If you had been there, reader, to behold things for yourself, it is not improbable that some of the solemnity of the wedding would have been scattered, (for you, at least), and some of the fun introduced too soon, for the costumes of the chief actors were not perfect; indeed, not quite appropriate, according to our ideas of the fitness of things.
It is not that we could object to the bare feet of nearly all the party, for to such we are accustomed among our own poor. Neither could we find the slightest fault with the brides. Their simple loose robes, flowing hair, and wreaths of natural flowers, were in perfect keeping with the beauty of their faces. But the garb of guileless Charlie Christian was incongruous, to say the least of it. During the visit of theTopaza few old clothes had been given by the seamen to the islanders, and Charlie had become the proud possessor of a huge black beaver hat, which had to be put on sidewise to prevent its settling down on the back of his neck; also, of a blue dress-coat with brass buttons, the waist and sleeves of which were much too short, and the tails unaccountably long; likewise, of a pair of Wellington boots, the tops of which did not, by four inches, reach the legs of his native trousers, and therefore displayed that amount of brawny, well-made limbs, while the absence of a vest and the impossibility of buttoning the coat left a broad, sunburnt expanse of manly chest exposed to view. But such is the difference of opinion resulting from difference of custom, that not a muscle of any face moved when he appeared, save in open admiration, though there was just the shade of a twinkle for one moment in the eye of John Adams, for he had seen other, though not better, days.
Even Dan’s excitable sense of the ridiculous was not touched. Himself, indeed, was a greater guy than Charlie, for he wore a richly-flowered vest, so tight that it would hardly button, and had been split up the back while being put on. As he wore a shell-jacket, much too short for him, this accident to the vest and a portion of his powerful back were clearly revealed.
But these things were trifles on that great day, and when the fun did begin, it was kept up with spirit. First, the greater part of the population went to the beach for a little surf-sliding. It is not necessary to repeat our description of that exercise. The waves were in splendid order.
It seemed as if the great Pacific itself were pulsating with unwonted joy. The billows were bigger grander, almost slower and more sedate than usual. Outside it was dead calm. The fall of each liquid wall was more thunderous, its roar more deep-toned, and the confusion of the surf more riotous than ever. For average rejoicers this exercise might in itself have sufficed for one day, but they were used to it, and wanted variety; so the youths took to racing on the sands, and the maidens to applauding, while the elderly looked on and criticised. The small children went, loosely speaking, mad.
Some there were who went off on their own accounts, and cast a few of those shadows which are said to precede “coming events.” Others, less poetically inclined just then, remained in the village to prepare roast pig, yam-pie, and those various delicacies compounded of fruits and vegetables, which they knew from experience would be in great demand ere long.
As evening descended they all returned to the village, and at sunset hauled down their flag.
This flag, by the way, was another souvenir of theTopaz. It was an old Union Jack, for which Adams had set up a flagstaff, having by that time ceased to dread the approach of a ship. By Jack Brace he had been reminded of the date of the king’s birthday, and by a strange coincidence that happened to be the very day on which the two couples were united. Hence there was a double, (perhaps we should say a treble), reason for rejoicing. As John Adams was now endeavouring to undo the evils of his former life, he naturally became an enthusiastic loyalist. On passing the flagstaff he called for three cheers for the British king, and with his own voice led off the first verse of the national anthem before hauling down the colours. Thereafter, assembling round the festive board in the school-room, they proceeded to take physical nourishment, with the memory of mental food strong upon them. Before the meal a profound hush fell on all the scene, and the deep voice of Adams was heard asking a blessing on the food they were about to receive. Thanks were returned with equal solemnity after meat. Then the tables were cleared, and games became the order of the evening. When a point of semi-exhaustion was reached, a story was called for, and the nautical pastor at once launched into oceans of imagination and fancy, in which he bid fair to be wrecked and drowned. During the recital of this the falling of a pin would have been heard, if there had been such a thing as a pin at Pitcairn to fall.
Last, but not least, came blind-man’s-buff. This exhausted the last spark of physical energy left even in the strongest. But the mental and spiritual powers were still vigorous, so that when they all sat down in quiescence round the room, and Toc took down the family Bible from its accustomed shelf and set it before Adams, they were all, young and old, in a suitable state of mind to join in the worship of Him who had given them the capacity, as well as the opportunity, to enjoy that glorious and ever memorable day.